


Shatter

by Vacheroon



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Not Canon Compliant, Partial Nudity, Past Character Death, Post Season 4, They talk about their feelings and then don't have sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 05:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21405070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vacheroon/pseuds/Vacheroon
Summary: When the dust settles after Kralkatorrik is defeated, The Commander and Braham have a long overdue talk about what happened with Balthazar.(Alternatively: the commander sure did die one time, huh?)
Relationships: Braham Eirsson/Player Character
Kudos: 29





	Shatter

**Author's Note:**

> It's been.... a very long time since I've written anything so I'm sorry in advance.

When they fall into Merril's tiny hut, they're all giggles and rushed kisses. When Braham hits his head on the low ceiling, Merril laughs at him. The hut was never grown for anyone larger than a sylvari, and Braham has to crouch to pass between rooms.

As soon as Braham rightens himself after entering the bedroom, Merril is grabbing him by the jacket and pulling him down to wrap his arms around his neck again and engulfing his mouth in a deep kiss.

Somehow, in an awkward pile of limbs, they make it to the spongy mushroom bed in the corner of Merril's bedroom. Braham remembers the first time they were here, and how delighted Merril was when the majority of his body fit on the bed. Despite the fact that his feet hang off the end quite noticeably, he still regards it as something of a miracle. On occasion, he wonders why a sylvari as short as Merril has need of a bed this large, but when he asks, Merril simply brushes it off as a joke. "I thought I'd grow into it."

In theory, it isn't hard for Merril to begin sliding Braham out of his armor, the open front being an unforeseen bonus, the only obstacle in his way is the sheer size difference between the two of them. Merril crawls into his lap and manages to free him of both of his gauntlets, before he gives up with a huff after failing to remove his wolf head pauldron. Braham removes it himself and slides his arms out of his jacket with a chuckle as Merril sticks his tongue out childishly, letting the sleeves flop around his waist.

Soon after, Merril promptly gets his revenge as Braham fails to undress him as well. A self applauding smirk blooms across his face with every moment Braham struggles with trying to find a clasp or button. 

"Would you like a hint?" Merril proposes in a playfully condescending tone.

"Yes please." Braham mumbles in defeat.

Merril takes one of Braham's large hands in his own and guides them to the first clasp ("it's on your shoulder? Who designed this armor?") And before he knows it, he's sitting in Braham's lap naked as the day he awakened.

The air in the bedroom is still as they both take a moment to take each other in. Merril's face is flushed and glowing, casting a soft green light across Braham's dark skin. 

Merril grins and grinds his hips down against Braham as he uses one large hand to run up and down Merril's thigh. He shudders at the excited butterflies in his stomach as Braham uses his other hand to trace a trail up his chest.

Merril's smile turns brittle as he feels Braham's calloused fingers hesitate over a patch of gnarled bark on his chest, a stark contrast to the smooth and almost waxy leaves that make up the rest of his body. It takes every ounce of his willpower to look up and meet Brahams eyes, and he has to stop himself from hiding from the unasked question in Braham's gaze.

He remembers trying to struggle out of Balthazar's grasp, despite the weakness threatening to overcome him. The adrenaline of the fight had long since worn off, and a distant part of his brain is trying to figure out what the god of war intends to do with him now.

The pain in his back is sharp and sudden, and he feels a cold wave of panic wash over him when he sees the tip of the spear emerges from his chest with a forceful thrust. 

Balthazar releases him from his grasp, and it occurs to Merrill what's happening. He's served his purpose, Aurene has been captured, and now he's being left on display as a trophy. Or a warning to the rest of Dragon's Watch, he can't focus on distinguishing right now. 

He attempts to use what strength he has left in his arms to try and pull himself back up the shaft of the spear, but his lower half has become dead weight underneath him, and thick, sticky sap pools in his lungs, inhibiting his ability to breath. 

That's how he died, struggling uselessly and choking on mouthful after mouthful of his own blood.

It wasn't a slow death, it couldn't have been. Not with that amount of internal bleeding, but to Merril, it felt like hours. He tried not to think about it, but he could still feel the scorching elonian sun beating down on him as every failed attempt to draw a breath came with a new wave of panic.

He curls and uncurls his toes reflexively, checking if they're still there, if he can still move them. Still working. He hasn't noticed that his smile has slowly waned, and his hands have drifted away from their place on Braham's chest. 

"Merril?" Braham asks, ripping him out of his thoughts. "Is everything alright?"

Merril does his best to pull his face into the expression he had been wearing before. "Of course, just… a bad memory, don't mind me. Please, continue."

Braham raises an eyebrow and shoots him a look that says he's not buying what Merril is selling. He's silent for a moment, his hands hovering over the patch of bark scarred onto Merril's chest.

"...What happened?" Braham asks after what feels like an eternity. 

Merril slides off of his lap, and back onto the bed beside him, the arousal that was driving them before quickly dissipating.

Merril heaves a sigh. "Did Taimi or Kas tell you anything at all? About what… happened in Elona?" 

Braham studies him cautiously, and the air in the room becomes heavier .The reason he wasn't in Elona is still fresh in both of their memories.

"No," Braham says after a long pause. "They didn't." 

Merril's gaze stays locked onto the floor. "Well, I suppose there's no easy way to get around it. I Died." His fits clench and unclench as he waits for a reaction.

Braham's first instinct is to laugh at the ridiculousness of his statement, he can't be serious. A quick glance at the solemn look on Merrill's face puts a stop to that train of thought.

"Merril,..." he tries. "That isn't funny. You can't make jokes like that." 

Merril's head snaps up at him like he's been issued a challenge. "Who's joking? If you think I'd make this up, I swear-"

"Okay!" Braham raises his hands in surrender and tries again, attempting to diffuse the situation. "I get it. You're not joking. But… how? What happened, how did you come back?"

"It was Balthazar. I fought him alone, and…" Merril's throat goes dry as the memory threatens to resurface a second time.

"And… it didn't go well." Braham finishes for him.

"No," Merril answers just above a whisper. "It didn't"

There's a long pause as they realize neither of them know how to proceed past this point. The size difference between them is already very noticeable, but Braham can't help but think Merril looks very small sitting beside him, body tense as if awaiting...something.

"So…" Braham begins again. "Did it hurt? Dying, i mean" 

Merril raises an eyebrow and shoots Braham a flat look. "Okay, stupid question. I guess what I'm trying to ask is what happens? What was it like?"

A long breath escapes Merril as he searches for an answer. "That's a story from start to finish. I've tried not to talk about it very much, I don't want the story getting out and giving anyone the idea they can somehow cheat death as well. That, and it's not exactly a pleasant memory." 

Braham nods stiffly, despite the questions swimming in his head. "If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to."

"No," Merril curls his legs under himself on the bed. "You were going to find out eventually, and I'd like to get this conversation out of the way sooner rather than later. Besides, I couldn't leave you on a cliffhanger after i've built it up this much." He tries for a smirk, but it falls flat.

Braham desperately wants to hug him, to pull him close to his chest and hold him there, to apologize for not being there, but this, he reminds himself, is the commander, who's born tyria's burdens in silence for the past seven years. As long as he's known him, Merril had been an exemplary leader, always calm and collected, and with a near unreadable poker face. but as he slowly opens up to him, Braham picks up on signs that Merril hasn't been as unaffected by everything they've experienced as seems. There are moments, like the one right now, where Braham is after to even touch him for fear he might shatter. It concerns him, but he's been unable to put words to his thoughts, opting to keep it to himself for now.

As Braham flounders looking for the right words, Merril begins again.

"The way I died… it wasn't pretty." Merril's hand ghosts up to clutch the scar on his chest. "I was impaled and left for dead. I couldn't have been alive for very long after that, b-but while I was up there, I-I…" his voice breaks as tears well up in his eyes.

Braham panics, he doesn't know what to do with a crying commander. It feels surreal to him, the commander has always been the emotional pillar of their gang, but here Merril is, knees pulled up to his chest, staving off a panic attack. 

He may not know what to do, so he decides to do what feels right.

Merril makes a strangled sound of surprise as he's pulled back into Braham's lap, and into a bear hug. It takes a moment for Merril to process what's going on, but when he does, he buries his face into Braham's chest and lets himself cry. 

Braham awkwardly rubs Merrils back, and Merril wraps his arms around his neck to the best of his ability, his hands looking for something to grasp.

He tries to talk as he cries, but with his face buried, Braham can only make out snippets. 

"...H-hurt so much…"

"...was s-so sca-ared…"

Braham feels his heart break as guilt sets in. He idly hugs Merril tighter as his head swarms with unwanted thoughts and regrets. If only he were there, would it have been different? He shouldn't have been so selfish about his mother's death, the commander was hurting too. Scenario after scenario of what he could have done and how he can fix it play out in his head, until a hiccup from Merril wrenches him from his thoughts.

"Th-there was a man," Merril croaks in between sobs. "He s-said he was wai-ting for his son. It wasn't just h-him waiting for someone, th-ere were others, p-pact soldiers, family mem-bers. I-" he hiccups again. "I tho-ought maybe s-someone would be-e there for me." Faces of everyone he's lost flash through Merril's head. Tybalt. Trahearne. Eir. Blish. "I hav-en't b-been able to g-et the th-ought out of my h-head, and i know it's stupid, but-"

Braham presses a kiss to the top of his head to hush him. "It's not a stupid thought." Braham thinks long and hard about the right thing to say, but everything that comes to mind seems callous, so he settles for "I'm sorry."

This sets Merril off crying again, but thankfully not as hard as before. At this point, Braham has given up trying to calm him, opting instead to hold Merril while he lets it alĺ out, figuring this is a long overdue expression of everything he's bottled up over the years. 

Merril eventually cries himself out, and Braham is left rubbing slow circles on his back. "Do you want to talk about it anymore?" Braham gently asks.

"No." Replies Merril hoarsely, somewhat muffled by his chest.

Braham nods in understanding. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

He feels Merril shake his head. "I don't know." He answers quietly. "If we could stay like this for a while…" he looks up at Braham with tear stained cheeks.

Braham smiles down at him sympathetically. "Not a problem. Do you want to lay down?" He asks.

Merril nods sullenly in response, and shuffles himself out of Braham's lap and into the farthest corner of the bed.

Braham grabs a thick wool blanket bunched up at the foot of the bed, a personal addition of his own to Merril's home. He pulls it back up the bed, and wraps both himself and Merril in it as he cuddles up under Braham's arm. 

It isn't long before Merril is asleep, softly snoring into his arm. Braham isn't surprised in the least, not after all the emotions he's dealt with today. 

As Braham begins to drift off to sleep as well, he has a final thought. The world is, and always will be a volatile place, Braham knows this. The day may come where he can't save Merril, but he vows to himself that this time, he'll be there to try.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha oh jeez oh god oh fuck oh beans here we are. It's been about 8 years since I've actually written anything, and it ends up being fuckin gw2 fanfiction. big F in the chat for me folks 
> 
> Big shout out to zeeplaguedoktor for encouraging me to finish this


End file.
